


Drabble Collection 05

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Please don't apologise for loving me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Collection 05

**[KiKuro, Kuroko showing he cares, R]**

Because Kuroko has years of experience in ignoring Kise, it doesn’t distract him as much as it probably should do, being fussed over relentlessly while he’s in the middle of reading a book. At least Kise is being quiet about it, although his hands aren’t as idle as his mouth as they stroke Kuroko’s stomach, hips and sides, like he can’t bear to not be touching some part of him. He’s always so affectionate, with what he says and what he does, and it almost borders on clinginess, his need for physical contact. By rights, Kuroko should feel smothered by the attention. Strangely enough, he doesn’t.

Marking his place, he snaps the book shut. Kise jumps, startled, by the sudden sound, and he immediately releases his hold on Kuroko, as if he’s afraid that he’s done something to annoy him.

“Sorry,” Kise says, expression guilty. “It must be difficult for you to read like this.”

“Not necessarily,” says Kuroko, but Kise continues to look dejected and apologetic.

Ordinarily, Kise has a thick skin. He doesn’t let other people’s opinions bother him, and while he’s used to being admired and respected – even adored, in the case of his many female fans – he also knows what it’s like to receive attention that’s less than positive. With Kuroko, it’s different. The Kise he sees is completely honest and unguarded. He can’t brush off Kuroko’s words as easily as everyone else’s, nor does he want to. When Kuroko compliments him, it makes Kise’s face light up with happiness, but when he criticises him, it’s as if Kise’s whole world has collapsed.

“It’s okay,” Kuroko insists, placing a palm against Kise’s cheek. “I’m not mad.” But Kise doesn’t seem convinced, so Kuroko places the book down with his free hand, and smiles. “Take me to bed?”

Kise blushes. Kuroko knows he’s thinking something perverted, but that’s okay, and when Kise continues to hesitate, Kuroko raises his arms, waiting for Kise to lift him into them. He does so, but his expression is one of disbelief, like he’s not sure why Kuroko is being this receptive. He goes red again when Kuroko nestles his head in the crook of his shoulder, not because he’s horny this time, but because he’s embarrassed.

His thoughts haven’t disappeared entirely though, as Kuroko discovers when they slide under the sheets, snuggling up to Kise and feeling how hard he is for himself.

“Sorry,” Kise mumbles, like he can’t help the way his body reacts to Kuroko’s when it’s in such close proximity, like he’s expecting Kuroko to get angry.

“I don’t mind,” Kuroko tells him, and he means it, or else he wouldn’t be saying it. “Really.”

“Jeez, Kurokocchi,” says Kise, and he’s smiling again now, squeezing Kuroko tight. “You’ve been pulling one surprise attack after another today.”

He nuzzles their cheeks together, and Kuroko indulges him for a moment before patting him on the shoulder.

“Kise-kun, let me go.”

“Sorry,” says Kise, again, for what seems like the twentieth time. “I know you don’t like it when I get like this.”

It can be annoying sometimes, especially when they’re in public, but Kuroko has no objection to Kise expressing his affection when they’re in private. He may not admit it, but it’s incredibly flattering, the way Kise looks at him like Kuroko is his whole world, and more than slightly humbling. 

Touching a finger to Kise’s lips, Kuroko shakes his head. “Please don’t apologise for loving me.”

If anything, Kise’s expression turns even more adoring, and it only increases Kuroko’s desire to make Kise as happy as Kise makes him.

“I do,” says Kise, earnestly, devotedly, kissing Kuroko’s finger. “I love you, Kurokocchi. I love you so much.”

He doesn’t protest when Kuroko gently pushes him onto his back, tipping his head back and baring his throat in a sign of utmost trust. Kuroko kisses his way along it, feeling the bob of Kise’s Adam’s apple under his lips when he swallows, moving further south and settling between Kise’s thighs.

“It’s okay,” Kise tells him as Kuroko draws down the zipper of his pants, making his intentions clear. “You don’t have to.”

He obviously wants this, but he’s holding himself back for Kuroko’s sake, because he’d never force him into doing anything, because he’d be happy with whatever Kuroko is willing to give him, no matter how little or how much, but Kuroko doesn’t stop. 

“I want to,” he says. “Will you let me?”

Kise nods, and it’s all the permission Kuroko needs to finish undoing his pants, smiling at the sharp inhalation he hears above him when he reaches for Kise’s cock. He’s wet already when Kuroko rubs his thumb over the tip, smearing the pre-come gathered there before wrapping his lips around it and sliding them down his length. Kise’s breathing quickens, and the hand that he rests on Kuroko’s head is shaking. He gets off on watching Kuroko do this as much as he does on the act itself, but that’s okay because Kuroko likes it too, the way Kise breathes his name, the way he tells him how sexy he is, how erotic he finds it when he does this, encourages it even by sucking harder and moaning around Kise’s cock.

He tries to warn Kuroko that he’s close, fingers tightening in his hair, not to push him down but to pull him back, but Kuroko just keeps pushing him further towards the edge, strokes the spot behind Kise’s balls that makes him jerk his hips, forcing himself deeper down Kuroko’s throat, and then his cock twitches inside Kuroko’s mouth, filling it with come. Kuroko swallows as much of it as he can, wiping the rest away with his left hand while undoing his jeans with his right. Kise gets off on this as well, watching Kuroko touch himself, so he curls his come-stained fingers around his cock, smearing Kise’s seed into his skin.

“God, Kurokocchi,” groans Kise, “do you even know what you do to me?”

Kuroko simply smiles, keeping his gaze fixed on Kise’s as he brings himself off, letting Kise guide his wrist to his mouth so he can lick his fingers clean. Kuroko strokes Kise’s hair, presses a kiss to his forehead, showing how he feels with what he does, instead of what he says. 

~~

**[Murasakibara/Midorima, roommate AU, PG]**

Nobody seems to get much of a say in the choice of their roommate, but it doesn’t stop Kise from trying. He can’t raise his hand fast enough, and his expression is full of hopefulness as he waves for attention.

“I’ll share with Kurokocchi!”

He’s immediately crushed when five voices (Kuroko’s included) say, “Rejected.”

In the end, it’s Akashi who decides who goes where, and he’s the only one who gets what he wants. Aomine is deeply unimpressed over having to room with Kise, and Midorima isn’t all that happy about being stuck with Murasakibara, but he knows better than to argue with their captain. It takes a couple of days for Midorima to get settled into his new environment, although he finds out within the first twenty minutes of having to share accommodation what Murasakibara is like to live with.

The first thing Midorima does once the door is shut behind them is unpack, putting away his clothes and the rest of his belongings swiftly and efficiently. The first thing Murasakibara does, however, is dump his bags and start snacking, despite the fact that they’ll be meeting up with the others for dinner in less than an hour. It wouldn’t be so bad if he actually disposed of his empty candy wrappers like a normal person. But, like teenage boys the world over, he simply drops them on the floor and doesn’t bother picking them up.

Midorima frowns in disapproval at the mess. “There’s a trash can fifteen inches to your left,” he points out. “Please use it for its intended purpose.”

Murasakibara nods, but Midorima’s words go in through one ear and out of the other, because he just leaves his rubbish where it is for Midorima to clear away later.

~~

Much to Midorima’s frustration, Murasakibara is in no hurry to change his ways. It doesn’t matter how often Midorima tries to teach him the basics of keeping a room clean, or how much he scolds him for making a mess (it’s not nagging, as Aomine insists, because that’s what girls do, and Midorima is very obviously male). Murasakibara simply refuses to listen. When he requests a change of roommate on the grounds that he and Murasakibara are too incompatible, Akashi just shrugs his shoulders.

“I think you’re a good match. You’re high strung, and he’s laidback. Hopefully, you’ll learn something from each other.”

Midorima doubts that, but he supposes it could be worse. He could have been given Aomine as a roommate instead.

Murasakibara’s bad habits are nothing compared to Aomine’s. His and Kise’s room quickly turns into something that resembles a bombsite, and it’s difficult to even see the floor for all the junk that’s covering it. The walls are plastered with posters of women in various states of undress, and Kise’s skin and hair care products seem to multiply every time Midorima has the misfortune of stepping into their room. In contrast, Akashi and Kuroko’s room is like an oasis of calm and cleanliness. It makes Midorima envious.

“That’s because Akashi-kun is a neat freak,” Kuroko explains.

Midorima wishes Murasakibara had the same kind of attitude towards his living standards. He still hasn’t even figured out how to use the communal washing machines yet (then again, neither has Aomine). If they didn’t have their daily meals provided for them by the school, Murasakibara would probably starve, because he can’t cook either, which is why, when they’re left to fend for themselves over the weekends after the catering staff members have gone home, it’s up to Akashi (and sometimes Kuroko, who can just about manage a simple, barebones meal, as long as there are eggs involved) to keep them fed. As much as Midorima hates to admit it, he’s hopeless in the kitchen. So is Aomine, but that doesn’t surprise anyone, and Kise’s claim of being a master chef is an overstatement when the extent of his culinary skills turns out to be pouring boiling water into a cup of instant noodles.

One day, however, Midorima finds Murasakibara placing the finishing touches to a chocolate cake. It’s not the fact that there are layers upon layers of sponge stacked on top of one another to make it look like the confectionery equivalent of the Leaning Tower of Pisa that takes Midorima aback, so much as the person who’s standing in front of it.

“What on earth is that?”

Murasakibara pauses in his work. “Mido-chin, do you need your glasses replacing? It’s a cake.”

“I know,” Midorima says irritably. “What I’m asking is where it came from.”

“The oven. All cakes come from there.”

“In other words, you can cook.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

A vein throbs in Midorima’s forehead. “Then why,” he says, slowly, “have you not volunteered to do so until now?”

Murasakibara simply shrugs. “Because it’s easier to let someone else do it.”

Astounded by Murasakibara’s laziness, Midorima can only watch in despair as Murasakibara gets back to work, humming happily to himself as he continues icing his masterpiece.

~~

Murasakibara sleeps a lot. If he didn’t have to attend classes and practice sessions at the basketball club, he’d never even leave his bed. It’s Midorima’s job to make sure he gets out of it, and it usually ends up being the most difficult.

“Wake up,” he says sharply. 

“Five more minutes,” Murasakibara mumbles.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“I mean it this time.”

The thing about Murasakibara is that he’s very tall, and also very heavy, which makes dragging him out from his cocoon of blankets a challenge, but Midorima manages it somehow, and he shoves him off to get changed.

“You know,” says Murasakibara, through a yawn, “in some Mediterranean countries, they have what’s called a siesta. We should totally do that in Japan.”

“I think you get quite enough sleep already,” Midorima says wryly. 

But Murasakibara doesn’t agree, which is why he always spends his afternoon lessons drooling over his desk (and also why he copies Midorima’s homework, because he has a tendency of both forgetting what he’s learnt and that the teachers expect them to have their knowledge assessed on a regular basis). 

~~

Some things in life can be changed. Others are just inevitable, like how irresponsible people seem to instinctively gravitate towards reliable people. Murasakibara is a prime example of this, although Akashi had a helping hand in bringing them together by transferring his babysitting duties to Midorima. And yet, as much as he complains about it, he finds it impossible to be anything other than polite and reserved when Murasakibara’s mother calls one evening and asks to speak to him.

“Thank you for always taking care of my son,” she says.

Midorima bows, and then remembers she can’t actually see him. “I’m honoured by your praise.”

Murasakibara leans over his shoulder, raising his voice so that his mother can hear. “We’re gonna get married, and then he’ll be able to take care of me for the rest of my life.”

“What,” says Midorima.

“Tell dad my future wife says hi.”

Midorima ends the call. He’s not sure Murasakibara’s mother would appreciate hearing the act of violence he’s about to commit towards her son.

~~

**[Kuroko/Momoi, precious collection, PG]**

Most middle school girls would freak out over inviting a boy into their bedroom, but Daiki has been coming over to Satsuki’s house for so many years now, he treats it the same way he would his own. The glare Satsuki gives him when he pauses to rummage through the refrigerator on their way through the kitchen has no effect whatsoever, neither does her comment that he should show some self-restraint and hold back once in a while as he helps himself to whatever he can find. His manners, or lack thereof, are even more appalling once they get to Satsuki’s room, and it’s a good thing he’s too lazy to bother figuring out where she hides the stuff she’d prefer to not be seen, because the only place he looks is her desk where he tries to pick out something he deems worth reading.

“Don’t you have any porn?” he asks.

Satsuki doesn’t answer, nor does she allow herself to get offended, because Daiki has always been like this for as long as she can remember, and she knows he’ll never change.

Mumbling about what a lousy hostess she is, Daiki decides to make do with magical girl manga (probably in the hope of finding panty shots), but before he can get comfortable on her bed and mess up the covers, he notices the newest addition to Satsuki’s precious collection.

“You got another?”

Her sour mood instantly sweetens, and her face takes on a dreamy expression. “Yup. It’s the third one this month!”

Daiki turns over the popsicle stick in his hands, raising his eyebrows at the word “winner” written on it. “Tetsu’s luck with these things is incredible. I can’t believe he gives them all to you instead of using them to collect his prizes.”

“That’s because he’s a gentleman,” Satsuki says, sighing happily. “I treasure every present from Tetsu-kun, but these ones are the best.”

“You women are so sentimental.”

“And you just don’t get it. Tetsu-kun’s *mouth* has been around this very popsicle stick. Every time I touch it, it’s like an indirect kiss with him. And when I think about what his tongue has been doing to it, I... I...” Unable to finish her sentence, Satsuki squeals with happiness, and smacks Daiki on the shoulder. “Jeez, Dai-chan, what are you making me say?”

Daiki rolls his eyes. “And you call *me* a pervert.”

Satsuki goes from swooning to scowling in less than half a second. “Don’t you dare tell Tetsu-kun. I have to maintain my image of a fragile, innocent maiden when I’m with him.”

She can tell Daiki is just dying to snort in disbelief, but he’s far too scared to actually do it. 

“Innocent maiden,” he says, nodding. “Sure.”

There’s no need to make accusations when he knows her mind is even filthier than his.


End file.
